


The debts a Lannister pays

by Frosted_King85



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lannister's been thieves from the beginning, Post-Episode: s05e10 To Right the Wrongs of Many
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 22:19:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frosted_King85/pseuds/Frosted_King85
Summary: A longstanding wrong is able to be righted by the Lady of Winterfell





	The debts a Lannister pays

Debts

 

1/1

 

Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell

 

The lion of Lannister would live to see another day, though it was a bitter sip of truth that hers were the words that ensured it.

Jaime Lannister turned away grimly, awkwardly clutching the gleaming, ostentatious hilt of the remnant of her father’s sword in his one remaining hand, seeming to make a studied effort of avoiding his brother’s visibly relieved eyes.

The line of Stark soldiers behind him uniformly stepped aside to let him pass, the coldly vengeful promise in their eyes a manifest to her wrathful heart.

This didn’t sit right with her, and the walls of Winterfell would surely collapse if she let this pass.

_He might have done lady Brienne the barest of chivalry, but he will not walk the halls of my father’s castle with my father’s sword in his hands._

“Ser Jaime.” She called without a following intent, so upset by the disrespect that she found herself at a loss; even as he stopped a mere two lengths away from the door he sought to escape from.

Lady Brienne was looking askance at her as well, though all Sansa registered was the furrowed brow of Jon as he frowned his way to her side, that woodsy, smoky scent that was solely him draping over her senses.

The Dragon Queen and her advisors had slowed in their tense exit of the great hall, Tyrion undoubtedly happy with the postponement of his queen’s rage until more suitably private circumstances were available.

“Sansa.”

Her voice uttered in that inappropriately intimate burr of her half-brother would normally send tingles down her neck, but all she felt was the cold nothing that the Sept of Baelor had imprinted on her as Ilyne Payne had taken her father’s head, with his own ancestral sword.

_His monstrous son did that, and now he thinks to bear the sword in Winterfell?_

“Ser Jaime.” She repeated coldly, her eyes finding his countering green’s, ( _the same shade as his vile sister_ ), heavy with mistrust. “I said I’d trust Lady Brienne’s honor, and allow you to stay. That does not mean I’ll allow you to continue to carry my Lord father’s sword. That is one half of the ancestral sword of my House, pilfered by your family when they stole Kings Landing. You will return it, Ser.” She commanded, and at the back of the room, the line of Stark guardsmen loosely circled the disgraced knight.

But all Jaime Lannister had eyes for was her.

He surged forward hotly, possessively clutching Widows Wail(a horrid name) with his left hand,  a snarl on his lips and perhaps a life-ending curse on his tongue but Lady Brienne was already there, pushing him back strongly with one arm and hissing quiet, as she turned to Sansa with her large blue eyes entreating.

“Lady Stark, Ser Jaime has wielded this sword for almost two years now-” She started softly, clearly uncomfortable with the regard of the entire room, as all had stopped pretending they were leaving, and were now watching this bout play out.

“Two years too long, milady.” Was Jon’s raspy injection, as he placed a warm, calloused hand on Sansa’s cool one, looking askance at her to continue.

She archly nodded, eyes never wavering from the Kingslayer’s.

“My lord father fought and killed Ser Arthur Dayne, of King Aerys’s Kingsguard at the Tower of Joy, to save my aunt.” He coughed here, his hand briefly squeezing her own, only to recover himself and keep speaking. “She died anyways, and he buried Ser Arthur, and all who died there. He then burned the tower to the ground, for its name was a lie. He then made for the capitol, but he made sure to stop on the way at Starfall, home of House Dayne, for my father was a man of honor and did what was right. He returned the sword of legend, where lesser men would’ve kept it for themselves.” The implication was resounding and in response, Lannister was purpling in fury.

Brienne was still trying to muzzle him but the lion of Lannister was intent on having his say.

“See here, I came here in good faith, knowing you frozen fools would seek my head. I knew this, and still came anyways, for I made a promise to fight on the side of the living.” He growled, looking eerily like his sister in that moment. “And then you seek to rob me, when I’m in your power? Is that the legendary Stark honor at play?” He snarled, his white teeth blinding against his darker beard.

Jon made to come around the table between them, his frown fierce and deadly, but Sansa stopped him with a hand upon his arm, squeezing it lightly, and taking a reassuring breath at the strength at play under her fingertips.

“Ser Jaime, my brother Jon was given the sword you see on his waist by Lord Jeor Mormont, the former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, after he saved his life. My brother has proudly carried that sword ever since, yet when he and others went beyond the Wall to bring back proof of the dead to convince your sister of the importance of a truce, he offered it back to Ser Jorah, for he is the son of Lord Jeor Mormont.” She paused there, again squeezing the woolen tunic of Jon in comfort before finishing with the lion. “Ser Jorah refused clearly, as it’s still on my brother’s belt, but I overheard him telling his queen about the offer. My brother is in the mold of my father, a good man, and he will do what is right. My parents taught us to be good, and when we were willful and of another mind, forced us to be such. So we will with you. Brienne wields that sword in place of me, as she is my sworn sword and I am not cast in the warriors mold. But that is not her sword. Nor is Widow’s Wail yours.”

Beside her, Jon shoved trenchers and cups aside, quickly making a space in front of them for the stolen heirloom.

Behind Brienne, Lannister was a statue. His brother tried to make himself smaller, if possible and surreptitiously made his way over, tugging at his brother’s cloak impatiently.

Sansa kept a stony look on her face, even as she pretended to ignore her former husband’s hisses of appeasement to his elder brother.

Tyrion called Jaime all kinds of fools and daft in audible whispers, but Jaime just ignored it all.

“This was Tommen’s sword more than Joffrey’s, and he was good Lady Stark.” He stated hoarsely. “I will not give it up.” He finished stubbornly.

_Fool._

“Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen Baratheon, Ser Jaime?” She asked flatly, pushing down the memories of a chubby cheeked Tommen and a sweet, shy Myrcella. “All three yours, by Queen Cersei, I believe.”

Tyrion was looking at her now, subtly shaking his head and begging with his eyes.

She ignored it.

Jaime Lannister was a fool, but he didn’t lack for bravery.

“You know they are, my lady.” He ground out hoarsely, a defiant tilt to his chin.

There was a shadow of him then that looked like he did all those years ago when he rode into Winterfell, proud and gleaming.

Before the Starks were ripped asunder.

Bronze Yohn, quiet until now did his customary harrumph, his effortless disdain a spur to Sansa’s own bite.

“If they are your seed, then what claim does Joffrey Waters, or Tommen Waters have on the heirlooms of House Stark?” She asked, a winter’s gust in the chill of her manner. “I know Lann the Clever is the founder of your House Ser, but surely in all the centuries since, House Lannister has learned to do more than steal the works of greater men? As I said before, either you will do better of your own choosing, or you will be made to do so.” She warned, impatience seeping into her tone. “Return the sword Ser.”

Brienne took the decision (and the sword) out of his hands.

She placed it delicately in the space Jon set aside before Sansa, who merely inclined her head, before picking it up and sweeping from the room with Jon at her side, his hand at the small of her back a brand burning her through her gown.

“I wish you would’ve told me you were planning on doing that Sansa” He rumbled softly in her ear, his hand slightly fisted in the back of her gown.

She doubted he was even aware he was doing it.

“I didn’t know myself what I meant to do when I called him back.” She blew out a tense breath, eyes sky clear and honest. “I just knew that the sight of him holding half of Ice was wrong in my eyes. The Kingslayer walking the halls of Winterfell, with part of Ice on his belt; after all he and his family did? He killed Jory, and other men who gave their lives for us.

His bastard son killed our father. His tyrant father is why my mother and Robb are dead and the north is so depleted. And his cursed sister is the reason why Lady is dead and buried. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now, I’m glad I did it.”

Jon stopped her there in the hall with a slight embrace, tilting his head back to look into her eyes.

“I am too. And having seen him now, we can place the sword in the hands of someone more equipped to wield it better. He lost his dominant hand saving Brienne, so that means his skills are likely lacking.” He mused aloud. “This was the right thing to do, with the Night king coming. Maybe Pod or Jorah can wield it instead.”

She leaned her head forward at that, resting her forehead against his.

“I don’t care, but anyone but him. He’s fortunate we haven’t hung him at all. Or let Arya deal with him.” She grumbled, and he laughed lightly at that, his scent a soothing cloud that she could rest on.

“Only if he keeps on acting pissy about it.” Jon promised with a low chuckle.

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> Had to get this out of my craw.
> 
> Seen too many stories where people seem alright with letting Stark heirlooms just be pilfered carelessly.


End file.
